Page 33 of Bad at Love
“You know that’s not bloody true,” he says, voice hard. “But I’m a man and I know how we all think.”
“The second time we met, the first time that we really hung out, I told you about what I did and we talked about all sorts of weird and random stuff.”
“I know we did. But I had a girlfriend at the time and it was obvious we were just going to be friends. With friends you can just say weird shit like that.”
“Why can’t you in relationships?”
“You can…” He exhales loudly, his hands gripping the wheel. Seems like I’m infuriating him too. “Look, I get what I’m saying bothers you. I get it. It’s harsh but it’s the truth and you deserve to know the truth. No one said it would be easy or fun but we both decided to figure out what we were doing wrong with love and this is part of it. The finding of the faults, if you will.”
“Oh I can’t wait to tear you a new one,” I say in a low voice. I’m practically simmering in my seat.
“I’m sure I have lots to look forward to. I’m just doing you a favor. You want to know why guys bail, one of the reasons probably has to do with the fact that you come across as a bit of a…weirdo.”
I’ve learned to try and not take weirdo as an insult. Weboth call each other weirdos all the time. “But how will I find my flower?” I ask quietly.
“Find your what?” he asks. “Okay, now you’re purposely being weird aren’t you?”
“Find my flower,” I say again, louder. “If I’m not myself, how will I find that person who gets me? How will I find the one I’m supposed to be with, or if you don’t believe in fate, how do I find the person who’s the right match? You put out what you want to receive. I want someone who won’t be blindsided when they get to know me…or my past.”
He falls silent. We’re driving over the hill now, the lights of the city spreading as far as the eye can see as dusk approaches, turning the smog a purple grey.
“I don’t know,” he says. “All I know is that maybe this is one reason why things don’t progress. Perhaps if you were sleeping with them…”
“Oh and now it’s because I’m not putting out?”
“If you hook a guy physically, he’ll be more willing to overlook some things, that’s all. If the sex is good, a guy will put up with almost anything.”
I know he’s trying to help me but now it’s getting to the point where everything he’s saying stings.
“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out and grabbing my hand, rubbing his thumb gently along the top. “All that I’m saying, it’s not coming from me. You know I think you’re perfect the way you are. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”
I can’t even look at him right now. Not because I’m still mad, because I low-key am, but because the way his thumb is grazing my skin causes my body to erupt in goosebumps. The rich low tone of his voice, the sincerity of his sweet words, they’re making the hairs at the back of my neck stand up. It’s like my body is coming alive.
Then why can’t I be with you?
The thought startles me, shooting into my brain from out of nowhere.
I sit up straighter, pulling my hand away, trying to shake the feeling out of me. I don’t want to think of Laz like that, I know it’s a dark and complicated road that there’s no going back from.
“I’m sorry,” he says and for a moment I fear he means that he held my hand. “About what I said. I really am just trying to help. The truth is, you should be yourself because I think you have a point. About the flower thing. That’s a bee metaphor, right? Anyway. The only guys who bail on you are the ones not worth your time. Period.”
“No,youhave a point,” I begrudgingly admit. “People sometimes make snap judgements they don’t mean. Some people scare easy and it doesn’t mean they won’t come around later. I probably should stop with the bee talk or whatever else I say or do and just play the game and see where it all goes.”
“You don’t have to play any game,” Laz says.
I laugh dryly. “I do. That’s what we’re doing right now, isn’t it? Might as well follow through. And you gave me your opinion and advice and I think you’re totally right, whether I agree with it or not, whether I find it sad or not. I think you’ve already hit the nail on the head. But now that I’ve learned lesson number one, why don’t you go on with the rest of the lessons.”
“This wasn’t supposed to be like a lesson, more like an…evaluation.”
“I know. And I flunked. But now that I know what I shouldn’t do, I’m at a loss for what I should do. So tonight, when we get to the comedy club, I want you to teach me.”
He stares at me blankly then turns his attention back to the road. “Teach you?”
“Yeah. The art of seduction.”
CHAPTER FIVE
LAZ
